


straight into the fire

by CaterinaVonFranzia_the_666th, kelidahauk



Category: Haikyuu!!, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Blood and Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Developing Relationship, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Needs Therapy, Feelings Realization, Hate to Love, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Minor Character Death, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan-Typical Violence, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Vaginal Sex, foes to hoes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaterinaVonFranzia_the_666th/pseuds/CaterinaVonFranzia_the_666th, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelidahauk/pseuds/kelidahauk
Summary: “Thanks for the ride,King,” Kei sneers, and he barely recognizes his own voice, strained from screaming and shouting orders and trying to fucking breathe as he ran. “I’m surprised you care to pick up horseless peasants. Get me to the fucking trees and you can leave me behind again."With a low grunt that’s neither an agreement or disagreement, Tobio simply says, “No. That’s not happening.”Whether Kei takes his word or not is out of his control and purview at the moment. They have more urgent matters at hand: the stray Titan approaches.“Can we outrun this?” Tobio shouts over the rush of wind, and it’s only the desperation of keeping them alive that he doesn’t even feel the twinge of hurt pride for depending on Kei’s expertise. “Or do we fight?”“We fight,” Kei says, “together.”***Five years have passed since Wall Maria fell, and along with it, any semblance of trust between Kei and Tobio. On the 57th Exterior Scouting Expedition, the devastation wrought by the Female Titan forces them to work together to survive.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tsukishima Kei/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 18
Kudos: 31





	1. Demolished

**Author's Note:**

> Our villain origin story: One day we were like, "We should write Tsukikage. What AU should we write?" And since we've been screaming at each other constantly about this final season of SNK, it was an easy enough decision. Building our own lore and integrating these Haikyuu volleyball boys into such a dark, dystopian world has been fun as hell. We hope you enjoy the end result of our brain worms.
> 
> In theory, you can appreciate this fic if you come from either the Haikyuu or SNK fandom. The world is 100% SNK, but the characters are mostly Haikyuu (with the SNK canon characters being named in the background). 
> 
> We don't know how many chapters this will wind up being (we have four done already, and plots for several small one-shots in this world), so stick around for the ride. We rated it explicit currently for violence, but there'll be smut as it develops.

**Year 850 - The 57th Exterior Scouting Expedition**

The crunching sensation of bone and limb beneath reinforced hooves is damn impossible to ignore, just as is the squish of still-fresh flesh — all their fallen comrades. A bloody path laid out for him to fly down. Most of the left flank, by the looks of it, lays spread out in smears and torn shreds across the upheaved grassy field. 

They’d been utterly demolished. 

The black smoke, rising in pillars which had sent stones dropping low in Tobio’s belly, still hadn’t been enough to prepare him for the horror of the scene which awaits him. 

It’s so unfitting, how the sun gleams and shines like the most beautiful of mid-spring days. There’s warmth baking into the ebony of Tobio’s hair, and the sky stretches on in a sea of clear shining blue, wisps of white clouds and the distant speck of birds in flight. 

Far beneath, on the ground, Tobio is chilled to the core.

 _So this is what it’s like out here,_ he thinks, gut roiling, and he swears he can smell the stench — the metallic scent of blood, the beginning decay of bodies, the reek of shit and piss that the Titans had scattered from torn guts in their haste to feast. There’s globs of pink mucus, mangled limbs sticking out, the loss of life vomited right back up. 

Tobio, too, wants to vomit. 

_This is what it’s like, for Kei and Shouyou. This is what they face, each time._

The horrors of Titans aren't new to Tobio; Shiganshina and Trost will forever haunt him — the half-eaten remains of Kindaichi’s head, the way their class had been dumped right into the fire. Kunimi’s howling, hoarse and animalistic. Oikawa, looking away to disguise the way tears had streaked through the blood on his face — human blood that lingered. 

And then — not even a month ago — the bodies of cadets littering the streets of Trost, that last frozen expression of terror painted across so many of their faces — _too many_ of their faces. First battle, last battle. 

_Why hadn’t they been evacuated? Why had so many perished?_

Outside of their illusion of protection, though, there’s something so open about wild territory that a sense of terrifying sublimity takes over, and that wave of despair strikes sharp, pierces deep. Because what witnesses are out here? It’s incomprehensible — an entire flank wiped out so easily on an expedition, and nobody back home knows any better. There’s no disaster on a grand scale, no perceivable danger to humanity, yet so many people are extinguished. 

_Just._

_Like._

_That._

And Tobio’s wide eyes are one of the few left to bear witness. 

His eyes can’t help but drink in the sight, eyes searching for any familiarity, and Tobio curses under his breath as he spots a familiar head, eyes wide — someone from his corps who he can no longer remember the name of, an unfortunate soul who hadn’t ranked high enough. They’d survived five years, only for a patch of nameless grass and a clump of chewed Titan vomit to become their final resting place. 

There’s no clue where the _fuck_ Eren Jaeger is now — now that Tobio had diverged, and he only hopes that Eren’s squad has that on lock — that Levi’s legendary status, and the _sheer fucking brilliance_ of Petra and Oruo prove enough to protect the kid, bring him back to the city in one piece. Otherwise, Tobio may as well die out here; the Military Police will have his head for taking his eyes off Jaeger and diverging in the formation, black smoke or no. In the back of his mind, he has faith in Petra and Oruo — there’s nobody better that Jaeger could have been paired with.

And before he can help it, Tobio’s mind flashes to Shouyou, to Kei, others who graduated the same year as him, who were burned and baptized through the same flames that had burned Shiganshina, the same bombardment which had broken Wall Maria down. As soon as the thought arises, Tobio fiercely attempts to squash it down, to focus on the rhythm of his horse, the rush of ground underneath him, then the scenery in the distance and his next objective — to merge back into formation. 

_You can’t think about them, or you’ll lose it._

What right does he have, to worry about them? He thinks of Shouyou, whose anger was bright but short-lived and ultimately understanding — who had laughed and bounced with the idea that they’d be going on an expedition together.

Just like they had originally planned, as children, to see the world together. 

And Kei… After Tadashi’s death, after Tobio had stepped back in an act of pure cowardice? He can’t even begin to imagine the resentment Kei must hold for him. The hate and disdain, rightful. Back then, had he completely destroyed _them_?

Tobio physically shakes his head, dislodges those thoughts. When in Titan territory, when in the midst of battle, he knows that he cannot let these thoughts take over. Not if he wants to make it through. It’s nothing new, after all; in the madness-inducing shelter of the inner walls, not a day went by where he hadn’t laid in his bunk at night, wondering where Shouyou and Kei were, whether they were well and alive. Whether the next day would be their last. There’s no peace, no rest, for the ravaged minds of soldiers. 

When he gets home, he’ll have plenty of time to agonize. For now, it’s time to put those thoughts away. Tobio turns his horse, but it’s still branded in the back of his mind — that Shouyou and Kei are at the front vanguard, are the first line of defense against the Titans. That, under Levi’s command, they are always in the most dangerous fray, always at the spearhead of an attack. 

_Please_ , he thinks, sending one last well wish. They’ve been doing this for five years, been surviving for five years on countless expeditions. He has to have faith that this won’t be the one which ends them. 

With his eyes fixed on the next pillar of smoke, the closest living edge to their formation, Tobio rides forward.

🌛👑🌜

_I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to die—_ Kei’s brain screams as the horse gallops beneath him, as he stretches as flat across its neck as possible. His fingers are fisted into rein and mane, and lather whips off its flesh directly into his face. The bit is firmly between its teeth and Kei knows he no longer has control, of the animal or of his terror.

He hasn’t had control in a long time.

The hooves churn over gristle and bone, blood and flesh. His goggles are a mess, smeared with the foam and crimson, but he can't spare a hand to even wipe at them half-heartedly. It’s all he can do to hold on. It’s been all that he can do, to hold on, ever since he watched Tadashi disappear into a gaping, rank maw — ever since he watched Tobio walk away and leave him and Shouyou and Hitoka behind.

Kei holds on, digging his heels and knee into the horse’s flanks, urging it to go faster. The ground trembles beneath them as a Titan gives chase. 

_I won’t die I won’t die I won’t die—_

These long-distance scouting formations are old news to him now that he’s been with the Survey Corps for five very long years. They’re never safe, not by any means, but they’re rote — Kei’s used to riding forward and to the right, watching for problems. He knows he’s a goddamn prodigy when it comes to analyzing battle plans, to making split-second decisions on where to place their troops and maneuver. As long as he has all the data, he makes brilliant defensive strategies.

Today, Kei did not have all the data.

The Female Titan had appeared out of nowhere and the recruits from the 104th who were riding with his flank dutifully sent up black signal flares: an Abnormal. Kei had watched, helplessly, as the kids were ripped to shreds. He had looked around in desperation, seeking a tree or an outcropping or _anything_ that would let him take to the fucking skies with his ODM gear.

But they were in a long, open stretch of land, and the map he so visualized had the Forest of Giant Trees still located a good distance away. It had been all Kei could do, through jerking at its mane, to turn his horse in that direction, to try to maintain some semblance of control. He’s not a coward, but all the data screamed at him and his brain made him react.

 _There’s nothing here but death, fucking go,_ it had ordered, and so he ran.

His brain churns just like the ground beneath the horse’s hooves, as he fights to rein in his fear the way he can’t rein in the spooked beast. It’s a fundamental fact of Titan anatomy: they’re brainless, driven by a base instinct to devour. But as Kei remembers, the images hazy and bloodstained in his mind, he realizes — that’s not _exactly_ what he just lived through.

They’re nonsensical, these memories, and he knows he’s a victim of his own adrenaline. He forces himself to breathe deeply, inhaling the metallic taste of blood — or perhaps tasting it, because it’s spattered all over his face — as he tries to parse through the scattered images and to make sense of them. The Female Titan didn’t feed. She killed, and then she somehow summoned a horde to do the rest of her dirty work for her.

 _Not Abnormal,_ he thinks, his first coherent thought in minutes that doesn’t focus on his own impending doom. _A person, in a Titan’s body. Like Eren Jaeger._

It’s a chilling thought, that there’s more of them out there. He has to alert the command; he has to survive. Kei casts a look behind him. Through the pink streaked across his goggles, it looks like the Titan pursuing him is lagging behind, its interest snagged by something else; a decidedly rose-colored view that he prays is accurate.

He almost, _almost_ sends an actual prayer up to Sina — such a deeply-ingrained habit — before he wipes that thought from his brain. Instead, he squints as he looks forward, noticing a smudge of dark green on the horizon. 

_Trees,_ he thinks, and something akin to relief that is most likely still just adrenaline, floods through him.

For the first time, he allows himself to think of his friends. Hitoka is embedded deep within the heart of the supply wagons, and he has to believe in her safety. Shouyou rides the left flank, and in his terrified pursuit of life, Kei had turned unerringly in his direction. Flame-colored hair is easy to see, and he’s _certain_ Shouyou’s body wasn’t amongst the ones he passed, a victim of the Female Titan.

Tobio’s _not_ his friend, not anymore, but his image nonetheless springs to the forefront of Kei’s mind. Something within him aches, so he banishes it. 

_Don’t think, you can’t think_ , and he knows it’s true. 

He has to focus, because even one errant moment and—

All it takes is one errant moment, and his horse staggers. It’s exhausted, and its hooves clip one of its comrades that wasn’t completely ripped to shreds. It staggers, and Kei’s brain stutters, and then the next thing he knows he’s flying but not the kind of flying he wanted to do— 

He hits the ground hard, his body limp, and he rolls with it as best as he can. Blue green blue green blue green blur together as he tries his best to not die, to protect his head with his arms. When he finally stops, he can’t breathe. It’s been knocked out of him, and even as his oxygen-starved lungs struggle to inhale, he forces himself to his feet. Kei manages to suck in a ragged gasp as he sees his horse, down for the count, its foreleg shattered — as he sees the Titan in the distance still lumbering his way.

Kei turns and looks at the trees. They’re so far and he’s so tired but his brain screams at him, again: _Not today not today not today— there’s nothing here but death, so fucking go._

The terror is once again in control. Kei wants to fly, but he’s grounded. All he can do is run.


	2. Faith

Each league crossed on horseback unveils more bodies, a landscape’s stretch of canvas, painted with the bodies of the very bravest of soldiers. 

Tobio fixes his eyes on the horizon, on the pillars of smoke rising from countless directions — something is wrong, beyond what is considered normal. Some variable is fucking up their mission, and the unknown makes his chest seize with anxiety, with a sense of _no control._

 _Did something — what the fuck happened here?_

Mentally, Tobio tallies the bodies he flies past, the horses dead on the ground. The numbers add up — a staggeringly enormous amount of casualties, a significant portion of the right flank. 

There’s a headscarf flung on the ground, and not far, the slumped, intact body of Dita Ness beside what appears to be a deep crater in the dirt. Tobio’s thoughts shutter in a flurry of unanswered questions, even as his stomach drops at the sight of the dead commander. 

_How? Did a Titan slam him down but not eat him? Why would a Titan do such a thing?_

Further away, another whole body. No bite marks, only bloody from the jut of fractured bones through skin — death by _impact_ , and not the standard mauling of Titans. 

Tobio’s mind jumps back to Trost — to those last few minutes he was able to witness from a distance. He conjures up the image of a Titan with shaggy hair and glowing green eyes, a giant fortress housing the human body of Eren Jaeger. Tobio thinks of the motions of a boulder moving — up and down — barely peeking over the rooftops from his poor vantage point. He thinks of the barely perceptible, yet world-changing action of Eren Jaeger moving a boulder with intent and purpose, to claim humanity’s first-ever victory.

There’s something to excavate, there. That’s why the memory is blooming in his mind, isn’t it? There’s a bigger picture ready to be pieced together in front of him, but Tobio has never been much of a puzzle-solver, has never been strong at connecting the dots. He can’t align the looping edges of puzzles, nor step back and truly process an image; all he knows is the feeling of seeing a pile of pieces, and simply _knowing_ that something is off, followed by the frustration of not understanding _how_ or _why_. 

This Titan — the one who ended Dita Ness and his comrade — killed for the purpose of killing. 

That means something, but _what_? 

Brainwork isn’t his territory, it’s Kei’s. 

Tobio growls under his breath, then, sudden fear rearing that he’d just managed to rein in before. 

_Where the fuck is Kei?_

The formation is burned into Tobio’s mind; Shouyou is in the left flank, on the complete opposite side of the formation, while Hitoka is safe in the center. 

But, there’s _Kei_.

At the front of the rightmost flank. The same flank that’s now scattered and littered across the plains in bloody pieces. For a fleeting moment, Tobio also wonders — and desperately hopes — that the rookies are alright — Arlert, Braun, and Kirstein were all in the right as relays — names he recalled from the South Training Corps roster. And Lenz, too. 

But most of his mind is Kei, Kei, _Kei_.

Did Kei manage to evade the massacre? Was he far enough towards the front? Had he made it past the slaughter point when first contact happened? 

Or. 

Had Tobio already unwittingly trampled over pieces of Kei on his way forward? 

And the other rookies. Are they all —? 

The horse is the one who sprints, yet Tobio’s own breathing is more ragged.

 _You can’t think like that, you fucking can’t_ , Tobio berates himself, but it doesn’t stop the pounding his chest, the tightening of his lungs. _Every mistake you’ve made in life has been because you fear losing more people, and it’s done nothing to stop people you love from dying. What use does your fear have, now?_

 _Ten seconds._ That’s all Tobio gives himself. 

For ten seconds, his body can process — assume — that the worst has happened. For ten seconds, only. He takes a strangled breath and exhales in a short burst. 

_10._

Tobio chokes on a sob, feels his chest cave in, feels the world vanish in an opaque whirlwind of grief as he stands in dead center.

_9._

The sun still shines; Tobio’s own shadow is stark on the ground, mounted on the mighty outline of his moving horse. He grips the reins, feeling the leather imprint into his skin. 

_8._

The bodies taper off; the smears of blood lessen on the grass, though his own vision is still splotched with red. 

_7._

Tobio’s vision is always tinted red and streaked, these days. 

_6._

_Kei’s dead_ , he tells himself, focusing on the rush of wind, nearly a roar in his ears, to contrast the somber whispering of his mind. _Shouyou’s dead, Hitoka’s dead. And the only thing left to do is your objective._

_5._

It’s the only way he can stay sane — to assume — to pretend — that the worst has happened, and know that he has nothing left to lose in this world. This is true. A fact. Tobio can’t delude himself into believing otherwise — into believing that any of them have a chance. 

_4._

Because, if Tobio does? The fear takes his breath away, immobilizes him. 

_3._

_They’re dead, they’re all dead, and you have nothing._

_2._

_You need nothing._

_1._

And he exhales one more time, resolve settling into forged steel, cool to the touch. 

_Just do the job, Tobio._

And just as he’s finally reconciled his losses again — using the same torturous routine he’d adopted since the news of the 99th’s first expedition while he sat comfortably behind Wall Sina — Tobio’s eyes land on the horizon. 

He’d know that distant figure anywhere, even with leagues between them. 

_Kei._

It’s the same drive which had gotten Tobio in trouble countless times in training, had gotten him injured in his childhood for chasing game too passionately — Tobio’s body catches fire, hot and consuming. The moment his eyes land on the lone form of Kei, he springs into action, his physical body moving ahead of his mind to tear the reins into a change of direction. He spurs his horse — urges it faster — _flies_ towards the horizon, even as he glimpses the distant lumbering of a Titan who’s spotted them. 

_He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive_ , Tobio's mind chants, in sync with each heavy thud of his heart. 

Up close, Kei is _ragged_. The exertion is evident in his posture. Just how long has he been running for? He’s never been the best runner, to begin with. Tobio doesn’t even have time for the relief which threatens to drop him right then and there; he swerves his horse right into Kei’s path and glances back over his left shoulder, eyes intent and urgent. 

“Kei. Get on. Hurry.”

🌛👑🌜

Kei’s too far in his head, too absorbed in his own fear, to realize that it’s the pounding of hooves coming up behind him rather than the thudding pace of a Titan set to devour him. Even as the sound grows closer, he doesn’t stop; he draws in a ragged breath as his lungs scream, on fire, and he does his best to sprint. Kei’s never been much of a runner, but certain death looming up behind him inspires one last rally. His legs are dead weight beneath him, his back muscles tense and sore, and it’s all he can do to keep going.

It’s all he’s ever been able to do, keep going.

It’s his name, spoken in _that voice_ , that snaps him out of his frantic sprint. All at once, Kei realizes that somehow, inexplicably, he’s saved — by none other than Tobio Kageyama.

 _I’m dead,_ he thinks, because that’s the only thing that makes sense. He must have been killed and now he’s dreaming, because why the fuck else would Tobio be here in front of him on a horse, his savior? Kei hasn’t seen him in five long fucking years, not since the day after Wall Maria fell and their cadet corps class was baptized in blood and fire at Shiganshina.

It was a transformative experience, the fall of Shiganshina. In a kaleidoscope of images, Kei remembers:

His absolute horror and devastation as the wall _breaks_ , as holy Maria _shatters_ , as Titans began to pour in to feast—

Tadashi, his eyes wide with panic, reaching desperately for him as he is devoured, as his legs are torn from his body and blood spurts everywhere— 

Hitoka viciously cutting into a Titan’s nape to rescue Shouyou from its grasp, before another Titan knocks both of them to the side and to certain death— 

Himself and Tobio swooping in, working beautifully together _as always_ , their arms outstretched to grab their friends, to pull them back to the rooftops where they can at least have a fighting chance of survival— 

The withdrawal into Wall Rose, leaving so many, _too many_ bodies behind, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that is tinged by the guilt of surviving when so many others did not—

His decision to join the Survey Corps instead of the Garrison when his faith in the sanctity of the walls is lost, so he can stay with the only thing that he knows to be true anymore: his bond with Tobio and Hitoka and Shouyou and the need to protect them like he failed to protect Tadashi—

—and finally, the sheer _heartache_ when Tobio announces that he is joining the Military Police instead of the Survey Corps like he planned all along, that he is abandoning them and leaving them behind. Leaving him behind.

Kei’s faith in the walls wasn’t the only thing destroyed that day; his faith in Tobio was, as well.

Still, something sparks in his chest at the sight in front of him — at the sight of Tobio’s crow-black hair, windblown and mussed from his frantic ride, of that familiar and stubborn set of his jaw, of the peculiar look in his deep blue eyes as he regards Kei on the ground beneath him. Kei’s years of training and experience take over; his mind may be overloaded, sorting through everything that has happened in the past hour, clouded by trauma, but his body knows what to do.

Without slowing his pace, Kei runs at Tobio and his brilliant, beautiful horse. He reaches out with long arms and grabs at Tobio’s waist, trusting him to keep seated in the saddle as his fingers tighten spasmodically on sharp hip bones, as he _leaps_. It’s an awkward maneuver, but it’s one they’ve practiced so frequently throughout the years; after all, being left without a horse is a death sentence. This trick is ingrained within him just as deeply as the application of his currently-useless ODM equipment.

Smoothly, more smoothly than he has any right to hope for when he considers the rest of his shit day, Kei lands on the horse’s broad back just behind Tobio. He bounces and nearly slides off the rump as the horse continues to gallop without slowing its pace. Adjusting the position of his legs, he _clenches_ tightly with his knees before wrapping both his arms firmly around Tobio’s slender waist. Kei seals himself against Tobio in a position that feels strangely intimate, no matter how often they had practiced the maneuver together as children.

Kei breathes deeply, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. It thuds helplessly in his rib cage and he can feel Tobio’s too, pounding right through his back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kei thinks _he’s just as scared as I am_. It’s reassuring somehow, just as reassuring as the sight of the Titan that’s pursuing them dropping further into the distance.

He opens his mouth to thank Tobio for rescuing him. He opens his mouth to tell Tobio about his theory that the Titan is a human in a shell, like Eren Jaeger. He opens his mouth to tell Tobio that he’s sure Hitoka and Shouyou are safe. He opens his mouth to say so many things, but what comes out is this:

“Thanks for the ride, _King_ ,” he sneers, and he barely recognizes his own voice, strained from screaming and shouting orders and trying to fucking breathe as he ran. “I’m surprised you care to pick up horseless peasants. Get me to the fucking trees and you can leave me behind again.”


	3. Refusal

The weight of Kei at his back — the firm loop of arms around his waist — is so familiar, even five years later. Tobio would consider it nostalgia — if not for how the touch memory is still so vivid, they could have been cadets just yesterday. 

The drills had been stringent their third year, rigorous to the brink of madness. 

Tobio remembers: _the massive bruises which adorned his lower body in splotches, the strain and heaviness of his thighs and ankles from leap after leap, the sheer childish rage of watching Shouyou effortlessly pull it off with obnoxious laughter, while Tobio’s ass soaked in the mud._

_The frustration of not being excellent at something for once, and the embarrassing knowledge that Kei would be watching as Tobio failed, again and again. The unbearable idea of Kei seeing him as any less than competent. The vulnerability of knowing his imperfections were so visible to the other cadet. The confusion — why did it matter only when Kei was concerned? Tobio hardly cared about the way Shouyou pointed and snorted at his fumbles._

None if it matters, because now Kei has seen the worst. Now, Kei knows the most shameful and ugly of Tobio’s cowardly self, and despises it.

As he should. 

Tobio remembers — as vivid as the day it occurred — leaping for the expanse of Kei’s back in practice and slipping clumsily. He remembers the swooping sensation of tipping back, nothing to anchor him. He remembers giving into the fall, then, eyes still riveted and fingers outstretched towards Kei in unconscious thought. His gaze remained level, even as the brunt impact of his back against dirt rattled through him. 

The breath had been punched right out of him by the impact… but the way Tobio’s heart shuttered was entirely the fault of his eyes, for drinking in how Kei glowed underneath the afternoon sun.

Any chance of excavating those breathless moments — few as they were under the immense pressure of training — had vanished with Tobio’s transfer to the Military Police. A slowly-blooming trust had been irreparably broken that day, trampled flat before it had any hope of flowering. And now, it probably never would. 

The ruins between them — the unsalvageable piles of dust and gravel beyond recognition — are only hammered home by the harshness of Kei’s words. With the closeness of their heads as Kei clings to his waist, the low tone bites that much harder, sharper. Tobio’s initial reaction is to spit back his own vicious, cutting words; a snarl works his way up his throat, a feral reflex of the bitterness they’ve all been steeped in since Wall Maria crumbled. 

Since Tobio tucked tail in the face of his own grief and _ran_ — knowing that he had too much to lose, and unwilling to watch as they’re inevitably taken from him, one after another. 

Since he’d witnessed Kei’s imaginable loss — of not only dear friends, but of his entire worldview — and seen the other cadet handle it with courage and grace by pledging himself to the same cause Tobio had been so ardent about, before, to the point of overbearingness. 

And what had Tobio done, in return? 

It’s in Tobio’s nature; he wants so desperately to bite back, to inflict pain in retaliation for how Kei’s words hurt. It’s all there, right at the tip of his tongue. He’s always been quick to anger in the past — he knows this, Kei knows this. The words are _right there_ , begging to be spoken into existence. 

_Don’t you dare say anything, Tobio. Your anger isn’t justified here._

What can Tobio do, when he doesn’t deserve to speak to it? When the damage he’s already inflicted is so tremendous? There’s no ground for him to stand on. This isn’t a fight he’s entitled to participate in, and there’s nothing he can do but take Kei’s words. 

The only thing left is to do his job — to see the mission through, and see Kei’s survival through. Duty is all Tobio has to offer. 

With a low grunt that’s neither an agreement or disagreement, Tobio simply says, “ _No_. That’s not happening.”

Whether Kei takes his word or not is out of his control and purview at the moment. They have more urgent matters at hand: a stray Titan approaches. 

Underneath both their weights, their horse strains, coat glimmering with sweat. 

There’s no stopping, though. Not with the pounding of a Titan’s footsteps — and an Abnormal one, judging by the frequency. 

“Hold on tighter,” Tobio orders, and he urges the horse faster with his heels, knowing that he’s asking the most — pushing for the most. 

They can’t die out here — this field in the middle of nowhere can’t become the burial ground of Kei Tsukishima. 

The furthest edge of the forest is ahead, still _so far_ , and Tobio’s instinctual brain thinks they have a chance — they might be able to make it. But, it’s all intuition. He’s not the thinker here, and he doesn’t want to roll a wager — not when he’s the least experienced of the two of them. Not when there are _two_ lives at stake, and not only his own. Not when Kei Tsukishima’s life is at stake, because in these five years, the wellbeing of his former team has never stopped being of the utmost importance to Tobio. 

“Can we outrun this?” Tobio shouts over the rush of wind, and it’s only due to the desperation of keeping them _alive_ that he doesn’t even feel the twinge of hurt pride for depending on Kei’s expertise. “Or do we fight?”

🌛👑🌜

It’s so familiar-unfamiliar, this position he’s instinctively found himself in. Five years isn’t long; five years is an eternity when you’re a Scout. Kei knows he has aged, that his body has changed. His palms, flat against Tobio’s abdomen, read the miniscule twitch of muscle underneath them as they rise and fall with the horse’s frantic pace. Tobio’s changed, too; they’re not scrawny kids anymore, blundering through an awkward adolescence shaped by rigorous training. They’ve filled out, _grown_ , become men, become _weapons_ forged in the flames of destruction and tempered in the blood of their foes and comrades alike.

It’s wholly different, fitting himself around Tobio like this — but it’s also wholly the same. It’s somehow _comfortable_ in a world that provides no comfort, that provides only pain. Kei wonders if this will be the first-last time that he feels such comfort, and he sucks in a ragged breath as he clings to Tobio, immediately regretting the acid words the very moment they drip from his lips.

Underneath his hands, Kei feels it: a low vibration, a snarl beginning to work its way out of Tobio in response to his bitter, cutting words. He hears it so fucking clearly in his mind, because Tobio’s snarls are peppered here and there throughout his memory. Sometimes they were directed at Kei, sometimes they were directed at Shouyou, and sometimes they just emerged for no fucking reason because a young Tobio — just like a young Kei — had a wicked temper.

His heart clenches as he remembers another time Tobio snarled at him. Once before, Kei’s skinny fingers had clutched at his waist with remarkable strength, the moonlight filtering through the leaves of the tree they were perched in giving everything a quiet, dreamlike state. And maybe it was a dream, and maybe this is a dream, because Tobio doesn’t _actually_ snarl this time. He makes another sound instead, a vehement _no_ , and Kei’s grip grows even tighter at the word.

He digs his fingers in reflexively when Tobio dissents, when he promises — _It’s not a promise, you dumbass, he just said_ **_no_** _, you know he loves to argue with you_ — that he won’t leave Kei behind again. Still, even as his fingers tense, the rest of his body _relaxes_. It’s a subtle change, but noticeable, as he somehow sinks further into Tobio’s back. 

It’s not that the fear’s gone, because it’s omnipresent, but somewhere deep inside — buried under rubble and ashes and shadows and cloaked even further in despair — there’s somehow still _trust_. Kei probes at that concept, at the radical idea that a part of him still trusts Tobio even after he abandoned them years ago, and all he can figure is that his brain is turning to mush with the never-ending flow of adrenaline that the day’s events have pumped through him. 

There’s another thudding now, a dissonance to the steady if fast-paced drumming of their hearts pressed chest-to-back-to-palm, and Kei glances to the side only to see another Titan running at them. He curses, low and hot and directly into Tobio’s ear, as his brain immediately begins to calculate its speed versus the distance between them versus the distance to the relative safety of the forest. It’s close, so close, and he can tell from Tobio’s tightly-coiled muscles that he’s trying to determine the same thing. 

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice pitched low, loud enough for Tobio to hear him over the pounding of the horse’s hooves and the abnormal Titan’s fast pace. “I don’t know,” he says again, and his voice is somehow more determined as the calculations click into place. “It’ll be close, so fucking close, if we do. If the horse doesn’t falter. We’ll run it to ground, either way. And we can’t risk losing our mount. We’re dead if we do.”

Kei steels his resolve. He’s made it this far. He fucking _refuses_ to die today. He couldn’t face a Titan alone, but he can face it with Tobio. They’ve always been stronger together. Five years isn’t long; five years is an eternity, but Kei _knows_ somewhere deep within that their combined strength is still more than enough to let them survive. It’s a deep, unshakable faith that’s instinctive rather than indoctrinated. Kei may have given up on Maria and Rose and Sina, but there’s a part of him that refuses to give up on Tobio, even if Tobio gave up on him first.

“We fight,” he says, “together. Rush it. Climb it like a goddamn tree, Tobio. I’ll get its legs. You get its nape.” 

He’s found his balance now, on the horse’s rump and with his memories and with Tobio, and he shifts his hips and squeezes with his knees. It’s with great reluctance that he sits back and unhands Tobio, moving and breathing with the 1-2-3-4 count of the horse’s stride. His fingers are immediately chilled in the wind but he forces them to wrap around the handgrips of his ODM gear. If Tobio obeys, Kei won’t need his sword blades — all he needs is the grappling hook. But he’s a _motherfucking Scout_ , and he’s fucking ready to fight, so he clicks them into place anyway and prepares to unleash Titan blood. 

Kei leans forward again, his chin bobbing over Tobio’s shoulder. “Let’s _fly_ ,” he says, his voice unwavering, “and then let’s get the _fuck_ out of here.”


	4. Together

Five years of distance vanish the moment Kei squares up, ready to spring into action. The hate and resentment fades to the background, the moment Kei’s palms — warm and steadying, always so _firm_ and _present_ in how it touches — lift from where they’d been anchored against the tense expanse of Tobio’s torso. Around them, the air shifts into something _charged_ , with the electrifying focus of an objective. 

Tobio doesn’t need eyes to see in his mind how Kei squares up, each tiny shift of his body settling into the optimal position for combat. He doesn’t need eyes to see the focus lighting up Kei’s face, an expression which unmistakably _taunts_ and _challenges_ in a manner both infuriating and assuring. 

Kei moves, and Tobio finds his own body reacting in tandem, light years before any coherent thinking. His quadriceps flex to brace more firmly against the horse’s flanks, while his calves strain to push into the resistance of his stirrups. For all that nothing is certain between them, their physicalities are imprinted — branded — with memories which they can’t hope to wipe. Each fiber of muscle — each tendon and bone and nerve — fused with an intrinsic ability. For a moment, Tobio imagines they’re simply bodies brimming over with memories — dancing to one another in flux, irrevocably attuned and wired, in a way only cadets who have weathered together can know. 

There’s no way Kei doesn’t feel similarly, Tobio thinks — _believes._ He might have ruined everything, but they were forged through the same fires, broken down and rebuilt with the same tools and blueprints.

Five years of distance, though it has severed them in every other aspect, doesn’t touch the barbaric physical conditioning of three years, of long days upon long days of grueling at-bats, over-and-over-and-over, until they’re bathed in one another’s sweat and reek. Until their bodies, so moldable and trainable at a young age, had been wrung through and sculpted into instruments eternally tuned to the frequencies around them, to the minute signals of their teammates. Until the world spun in such disorientation that all they knew was the job and one another, in a collective of them, them, _them._

 _Us, us,_ **_us_** _._

Five years of distance, and all the hate in the world can’t undo the knots which bond their unconscious selves.

Kei moves, and Tobio follows. From the saddle, Tobio’s body shifts into a primed pose, muscles taut and positioned for a smooth movement. 

“Loud and clear,” he calls out, a simple statement of his agreement with the plan that Kei has heard countless times before. 

He whistles under his breath, a signal for the horse. Then, in one swift execution, Tobio pushes to a crouch, feet carefully balancing in the very front of his saddle. Below him, the ground rushes in a blur, and that first step is always such a gloriously breathless moment — arms out for balance, the air whipping at his face, the roar of the wind matching the thundering of his heart. Behind him, there’s enough space for Kei’s movements and he can _feel_ the movement with how alight his nerves are, as if each of the millions of endings is reaching out, seeking Kei.

In the second before Tobio’s leap, there’s complete, utter trust that Kei’s movement is in sync with his. There’s infinite trust that Kei can decipher — in the silent, minute clues of Tobio’s posture — what Tobio intends to do. There’s thoughtless trust that after five years, Kei can still read every little signal of Tobio’s form — their own combative language. There’s trust, because Tobio _knows_ Kei can and _will_ match him in that exhilarating way of theirs, when their constant antagonism and competition transforms and shifts onto a third target. When their boundless clashing mingles with their assault into one single, intricate maneuver where they’re both at their very best. At their pinnacle.

From the beginning, it’s always been push-and-pull with them. In combat, their conflicts and friction become the very strings which bind them together, which keeps them vigilant and _so damn stubborn_ to outperform the other. Tobio knows firsthand how Kei can fucking _elevate_ him beyond what he can hope to accomplish alone. He still remembers, viscerally, how Kei rekindles a spark of utter glee within Tobio — the merging of the rush of combat with the childish joy of flying. 

Pinpricks of those thrills come back now like a dead limb reawakening, and Tobio springs up _high_ , catching the force of the breeze to throw his head back in an arched flip. His sharp gaze immediately zeroes in on the approaching Titan, already so fucking close. 

_Rush it_ , Tobio’s mind echoes, and then more resounding than Kei could understand, it’s that firmly spoken _together_ , which lights a fire within Tobio’s center chest, which spawns a daredevil determination that together, they have hope of achieving invincibility. The grapple is already flying, embedding itself to the outermost top of the Titan’s right shoulder. Tobio pulls the reel. 

Knowing Kei will be right beside him, Tobio _soars._

🌛👑🌜

Split-second decisions in the heat of the moment have never been Kei’s strongest suit; he leaves those to Tobio, whose incredible instincts in battle and flight have always bordered on the preternatural. _A goddamn prodigy_ , Kei thinks with equal parts exasperation and hate and adoration. His own strength lies in analyzing data, in connecting little bits of information together in order to get a look at the bigger picture. Kei excels in strategy and defense, in knowing where to position his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, in how to analyze the best angle of attack on a Titan.

He only has moments to analyze this Abnormal, racing at them at staggering speeds. In those moments, there’s one thought at the forefront of his mind: _if Tobio hadn’t come, I’d be dead._ This Abnormal has long since sprinted past the original Titan pursuing him, its course unwavering as it tries to run them to ground. Kei watches its stride, examines its gait, and compares them to the steady movements of Tobio’s mount. He calculates his approximate trajectory, scans the terrain for obstacles in his way, and visualizes his attack against the monster.

His eyes fixated on the approaching Titan, Kei _feels_ rather than sees Tobio move. The _loud and clear_ echoes in his head; it’s such a simple affirmation, but it’s the certainty behind Tobio’s words and the timbre of his adult voice — so familiar and yet so strange — that resonate with Kei. He needs to hear more, he _must_ hear more, so he can memorize the exact tone and pitch and cadence and lock them away for safekeeping, for that inevitable moment when Tobio will once again disappear from his life. 

Goosebumps erupt on his flesh as he _senses_ Tobio unhook his toes from the stirrups, rising to balance in a crouch on the saddle. He doesn’t need to see it to instinctively _know_ the way that Tobio’s flung his arms wide for balance, the way that his hair flies back behind him; Kei ate that black silk more times than he could count as a child before he learned to tilt his own head _just so_ to avoid it. 

Kei tilts his head _just so_ and makes his own move. 

Carefully, oh so carefully — so he doesn’t disturb Tobio’s balance, or fuck up his own now that he’s finally found it — Kei slips his right foot into the right stirrup. His fingers curl under the back edge of the saddle, digging into the leather and gripping tightly to give himself leverage. Neatly, he swings his left leg out and back, whipping it around the rear of the horse as he pushes with his toes, bringing all of his weight to bear on his right foot. 

Kei places his hands flat now, engaging his core as he pushes up, _lifting;_ as he slips his right foot out of the stirrups only to replace it with his left. He’s hanging fully off the side of the horse now, his left hand curled under the saddle’s edge once again, his body long and lean as he straightens completely upright to move out of Tobio’s way. He draws his right sword and levels it, aiming at the rushing Abnormal.

Tobio _flies_ and as Kei watches him, his own heart soars.

When he drops into a crouch in the stirrup, he’s no longer hanging off the side of a horse. He’s squatting on the end of a long, slender branch as Tobio _laughs_ in sheer fucking delight from his perch on an adjacent tree. Under the moonlight, Tobio’s blue eyes are otherworldly, challenging; Kei knows his own pale hair is shining, pearlescent. Leaves whip past him as he launches himself after Tobio, giving breathless chase. 

He can’t outrun the King — _what commoner can keep up with his majesty?_ he’d thought that night, as he spread his long arms and leapt, fingers outstretched — but Kei has always, _always_ recklessly pursued what he’s wanted. He hadn’t caught up with Tobio that night, but he’d caught him just the same. 

Tugging his hood up to hide his beacon-hair, Kei had drifted lower in the trees, firing his grapple ahead and up; he’d swooped to the side, drawing parallel with Tobio before squeezing the trigger and reeling himself in, quickly — looping himself _around_ Tobio, wrapping him in the steel cable of the ODM gear, effortlessly pinning him against a tree trunk. Those blue eyes had looked up at him in astonishment, with something that could be easily mistaken by anyone who isn’t as practical as Kei as _want._

He’d felt _invincible._

Kei harnesses that feeling, that nebulous memory, as he launches himself after Tobio. Where he flies high, Kei intends to swoop low; he fires his grapple into the Abnormal’s right thigh. Kei lets go of the saddle. He reaches out, carefully balanced, and smacks the horse’s shoulder; it obediently and fluidly changes directions, and then Kei tenses every single muscle in his body as he flings himself after Tobio with reckless abandon, with a little bit of astonishment and a lot of _want._

The abrupt change in course coupled with a quick squeeze of the handgrip sends him slinging around the Abnormal, just like he’d slung around Tobio in their midnight, moonlit maneuvers. As he soars, Kei draws his other sword. Aiming is a simple calculation; the left grapple blows past the Titan, sinks deep into the ground, and Kei changes course again. 

The slim steel cable wraps around the Titan just below its knees and as Kei swings around it, he slashes out with both swords. They bite deep and harsh into the backs of its meaty thighs, dragging right to left and slowing him slightly, just enough that he can get his feet underneath him and land lightly on his toes.

He immediately throws his body back, shifting so the entirety of his weight pulls against the cable as he continues to reel it in. Kei skids around the Abnormal on his heels, gaining velocity as he whips in toward the left grapple, as he thumbs at the release button on his right sword. The grapple rips out of the Abnormal’s thigh, and suddenly Kei is sliding along the ground at high speeds _away_ from it, _away_ from Tobio, who he trusts to finish the job as the Titan staggers, neatly hamstrung.

Kei’s flight comes to an end as he rips the left grapple out of the earth, as he spins back around to see both the Abnormal Titan and Tobio several yards away from him. 

The sun, high overhead, beats incessantly down upon them. It’s cruel in its heat, a sharp contrast to the soft and subtle moonlight. Everything smells like blood and vomit and sweat rather than rain-soaked earth and sweet pines. Still, Kei has the same feeling he did on that night — that same exultant triumph he’d experienced when he caged in Tobio rushes through him again, suffusing him with sheer _pleasure._

He can feel his lips curling into a satisfied smile as his eyes search for Tobio’s, breathless, his chest heaving.


	5. Presence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading this chapter now (it was written in early February) cracks me up because Tobio and Kei's thoughts about each other are so innocent. Wait until you get to where we're currently writing (around chapter 20). The chapter lengths have nearly doubled in word count and there's plenty of filth upcoming :D
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is giving this fic a shot! We are still obsessed with SNK and HQ and writing this together has been an incredible experience. There is a lot more to come -- we expect this fic to be around 25/30 chapters, and we've wound up plotting out a whole damn series. We hope you enjoy the ride.

The nature of flying is to be untethered. To abandon all steadfastness and fling oneself headfirst into instability — to lean forward and tip over, fall and plunge into the consuming swirls of a bottomless storm. 

It’s pure madness, yet it’s a madness children are forced to accommodate if they wish to avoid the body-breaking years of rural labor. The ODM in and of itself is terrifying, a contraption and tactic created out of pure necessity and desperation. 

But in his youth, Tobio had thrown himself into the chaos of flying with a boundless delight, chasing oblivion and the rush of danger. In his earliest memories, Tobio’s terror is gilded with equal weights of euphoria and pure joy. The biting tartness of all which is frightening always fades into a sweet aftertaste. In the thick of it, zooming through the dense pines of the forests where he grew up and loved most, Tobio was untouchable. 

Soaring forward in the night with Kei at his side — the moonbeam gleaming white against the curve of Kei’s cheek, catching silver in his hair — Tobio had felt magnificent. It’s a distorted sense-memory — the shimmer of lakewater where the fullness of a summer moon danced in ripples, the steady presence of Kei at his side, the crispness of the night forest air and the scent of pine and oak dancing around them. The world was theirs to conquer. 

And then, Tobio tasted the true _bitterness_ of pure terror, learned that there’s no sweetness to be found. He had _no fucking clue_ before, he quickly realized. He had known _nothing_ of fear. Even the Cadet Corps, with the horrifying yet expected casualties of the occasional cadet, hadn’t been comparable.

It wasn’t until the sound of the alarm, that day — until the rider with his tear-streaked face and shattered expression, voice shrill as he screamed the impossible — that Tobio had finally understood deep, harrowing terror which crawled all the way to the marrow of bones. Which dragged him down, further and further, until his body had been submerged in pure ice, the terror stinging and disabling. It wasn’t until the holy protection of Wall Maria had been breached and his hands stained with the blood of his comrades that Tobio finally _understood_. 

Lifetimes have passed since Tobio last felt danger _sing_ at his nerves, rather than leaden his bones with memories and trauma. He’d long accepted that he’d never _enjoy_ danger anymore — not after Shiganshina, nor the crushing weight of his own cowardice, or the slaughter of Trost. Not after losing — no, abandoning — Kei. And Shouyou. And Hitoka. 

But. 

Tobio had _also_ forgotten, in the eternity of purgatory since Shiganshina, how the very presence of damned Kei Tsukishima has never failed to _pus_ h him towards the best and the worst. How the simple flash of a half-smirk that just _screamed_ of equal parts derision and smugness could so easily rip a reaction from Tobio — easily get him to agree to the stupidest shit that even Shouyou wouldn’t attempt. How he’d been so _fucking pissed_ sometimes that he’d envision burying his hands in those thick, chunky tufts of hair and _yanking hard_ — except the thought touching Kei’s hair sat differently in Tobio’s belly than all the times he’d furiously whipped Shouyou around by that annoying orange mop. 

Tobio remembers _now_ , how flying beside Kei was both the most frustrating, yet the most _powerful_ feeling imaginable.

As intended, Tobio overshoots the Titan, zipping right past it’s slab of a shoulder to launch further, his cable acting as a slingshot-snag which somersaults him in the air — high above and far, far behind the crown of the titan’s enormous skull. From there, Tobio is completely out of sightline, the prime position to dive down for a vulnerable nape. 

In mid flight, Tobio has a birdseye view of the scene. He catches the skid-slide of Kei on the ground, the movement so smooth and whip-fast, it’s as if Kei hadn’t caught any friction from the ground. There’s a calculated arc of Kei’s swing, vexing mind working in tandem with lean body. 

If Kei as a cadet was simply competent, Kei as an experienced scout is _masterful_ ; even from this distance, Tobio’s sharp eyes catches how every last muscle of Kei’s body is controlled and finely attuned. Each minute flex of his forearm and fingers work to tug at the cable _just_ so. Each slight bracing of abdominals allows Kei to shift his balance and fully _bind_ the Titan. Then, Tobio’s witnesses the seamless transition of Kei cutting up Titan’s thigh, a flash of green and gold giving way to the spurt of rusty Titan blood. 

It _sizzles_ , the catching of _thrill_ at the endings of his nerves. Tobio lips stretching into a shit-eating grin. All-consuming, a fire ignites that he’d previously thought was forever snuffed out. Tobio’s other grapple shoots out. 

No thoughts are needed — only pure instinct and feeling. Eyes blazing, Tobio dives in. And one smooth draw of his blades is all it takes. 

The Titan ends; Tobio lands cleanly on his feet, grapples snapping back into place. He turns, knowing exactly where Kei is; those ingrained instincts catch onto the frequency of Kei which buzzes all around him.

The smirk and the gleam in Tobio’s eyes are all too natural; for a minute, Tobio meets Kei’s gaze, holds it steady, and _basks_. His breath comes in harsh pants, heart pounding and blood whooshing from exertion. As if for the first time, the taste of triumph after fear is mouth-watering, a lingering sweet after the tartness of their fight. 

And for a moment, the world ceases to exist. They’re young, reckless, buzzed from the naïve glory of their victory. 

Tobio comes back to himself, though. He takes in Kei fully, for the first time. He sees the height, the filling out of his body with lean muscle, the length of Kei’s neck. The depth to those honey eyes, pools steeped with all the horrors of the world they’ve endured. 

They’re not their young selves. They have no hope of being who they once were. Their world isn’t simple, anymore — it never was. A moment of conditioning aside, their trust no longer stands strong. 

With that thought, Tobio’s smile fades, replaced by a cautiously neutral expression. 

“Nice work,” he compliments, then pauses. Open his mouth, closes it. Finally, Tobio blinks and adds on, “We need to haul ass."

🌛👑🌜

There’s an instant, a brief moment, when Kei’s eyes meet Tobio’s that makes him freeze. Five years have passed, but Tobio’s eyes are exactly how he remembers them — steely blue and inscrutable. _What are you thinking, King?_ he wonders for what must be the thousandth time in his life. _What do you see when you look at me?_

Kei spent the first twelve years of his life living with his shopkeep mother, with his Wallist father, with his devout and passive older brother. But his memories of that family have faded; they’re sepia-toned and dusty, half-forgotten, overlaid with the three years he spent _growing_ together with Tadashi and Shouyou and Hitoka and _Tobio_. 

All of the cadets ate together, slept together, bathed together, trained together, cried together — _merged_ together, practically, until one could pick up exactly where the other left off — until they could work together instinctively, as Kei and Tobio just did. Kei formed hundreds of thousands of memories with his little surrogate family, and they’re all stronger than the ones he shares with his bloodkin. 

And punctuating those memories is the exact shade of Tobio’s eyes — unforgettable, no matter how frequently Kei had wished he could banish the color from his brain after Tobio _left._

They’ve haunted him in Tobio’s absence, because nothing else is quite the same shade. The midnight sky comes close, sometimes; Kei can remember pinpricks of light reflected in Tobio’s eyes, the stars or fireflies or both as they flew through the trees. At other times, the blades they use and discard catch a certain light and that reminds him of Tobio’s eyes, too. Just like their swords, they can also be sharp and cutting. But nothing is ever quite _right_ ; nothing is quite as soft as this, the shade of blue that stares at him presently. Nothing is ever as real as the thing before him, or as poignant.

Kei takes the entirety of the moment that they share to simply _exist_ , relaxing even as he pants, his eyes locked with Tobio’s. He studies them even as he takes in the smirk, the curl of his lips — as he takes in the breadth of Tobio’s chest, the hollow of his throat, the subtle sharpness of a jaw no longer softened by baby fat.

 _They’re exactly the same,_ he thinks again. _What are you thinking, King?_

But then Tobio’s smile fades and he realizes that they are _not_ the exact same, not at all. Slowly, Kei’s smile melts as his racing heart begins to slow. The moment — nebulous, ethereal, indefinable — is gone. A part of him aches to reach out, to physically grasp it and force it back into place.

But he can’t, because once something’s broken, it’s nearly-impossible to force it together perfectly in the same state as it once existed. The old Kei and Tobio are gone, he knows. There’s another part of him that wants to open his mouth, to say something to acknowledge the work they’ve done together today. _Nice work,_ maybe, or _Thank you_ , or even _I’ve missed you_. They’re all true sentiments, but Kei can’t bring himself to vocalize them. 

He’s not sure he wants to know what Tobio is thinking, not anymore.

It’s all he can do to nod at Tobio’s words.

“Yes,” Kei grunts, as if it pains him to actually agree with something Tobio says. He forces himself to tear his gaze away from Tobio’s, to resurface from nearly drowning in bottomless blue. 

The original Titan is still lumbering toward them, but Kei’s no longer afraid of it. If they can take down an Abnormal so effortlessly together, what can’t they do? Still, it’s better to avoid it if they can — that’s the goal of the Long Range Scouting Formation in the first place.

Tobio’s horse is steadfast, waiting several meters away; Kei sheathes his swords and walks over to it. Without a second thought, he slides a foot into the stirrup and hoists himself up, sitting straight and neat and gathering the reins in his hands. After all, Kei’s the Scout — he _lives_ on horseback. 

There’s a pause as he considers Tobio on the ground, as a hundred different thoughts fly through his brain in quick succession.

_Why are you even here?_

_Do you miss us?_

_Do you regret joining the Military Police?_

_Why did you stop for me?_

_Were you sent to watch us?_

_Thank you for saving me._

_I thought it meant something to you._

_If you could do it again, would you still abandon us?_

_Do you miss me?_

_I miss you._

None of them are appropriate, so Kei leaves them unsaid. “The Female Titan,” he offers, instead. “It didn’t _feed_. I think it’s the same as Eren Jaeger. You know. A human inside a shell. It was killing us just to be killing, not to eat. There’s something wrong with it.” 

Kei pauses, carefully collecting his thoughts, pushing away all the feelings of wayward nostalgia so he can focus instead on the task at hand. He immediately feels better — the _present_ and the facts in front of them are something he _understands_ , something he can work with. 

“We have to report to our squad leaders as soon as possible,” he says with a firm nod.

The _if any of them are left alive_ goes unsaid, but the weight of the sentiment hangs heavy in the air.

“C’mon,” Kei says, removing his foot from the stirrup and offering his forearm to Tobio so he can mount more easily behind him. “Let’s _haul ass_ to the forest, then. We’ll find the others there—”

He doesn’t say _unless they’re all dead_.

“—and we can regroup and report—” 

Kei can’t stop himself. The next words slip out, unbidden. 

“—and you can get back to doing whatever it is you do now that you don’t have to bother with _us_.”

_With me._


	6. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobio and Kei reflect on the choices that landed them where they are today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the tags have updated to include a Tsukiyachi het pairing. This is a background pair, but it will be explored in more and more detail as the fic progresses.

_Again. You fucked up again, Tobio._

The regret is immediate once the words leave Tobio’s tongue and he sees the way Kei refocuses. Once again, he’d been the one to break a moment. To break something soft, something promising. To end it. When will this habit be what breaks, instead of the hearts of his comrades? Tobio knows, whether it be grief and fear of further pain, or the very human fear of not wanting to be the one left behind, he’s always been weak and instinctive. But he can’t afford to be, not when this flaw has already wreaked so much damage. 

It shouldn’t be Tobio’s right anymore, to step away first. To make the ending decision. He’d had his turn, and he’d chosen to abandon his friends. He’s caused so much harm. 

In that moment, Tobio makes a promise. 

Next time, he’ll give Kei the choice — the opportunity — to rip himself away, first. To step away from Tobio. 

It’s the nature of cadet training, to tear apart the lines which distinguish one cadet from another — to spill them over and allow everyone to mix, until the barricades separating one cadet from another had blurred beyond salvage. And oh, how Tobio had crumbled and spilled that third year when North and West mixed, when he’d been faced with the forceful chaos Shouyou brought, the gentle steel of Hitoka. Tadashi’s silent courage, soft, yet firm like bamboo bends to gusts of wind. The constant competition and challenge of Kei’s grating presence, except Tobio wanted to be his _best_ for Kei, wanted to blossom his talents. That third year, he wasn’t ashamed of his aptitudes — not in the way he’d previously held back to avoid the scorn of Tooru. 

And when his edges finally popped, when all that was Tobio had finally started leaking under the pressure of the Corps, under the freedom of finally choosing to excel without apology, he’d found himself irreversibly mixed into those closest to him.

Tearing himself apart had hurt Tobio, too. Wrenching himself apart, feeling that connection — the bonds of cadets forged through the same fires of hell — tear raw and jagged, blood gushing. Each step he took towards the Military Police, each mile inland, he’d felt his soul draining more, felt his heart hardening. Felt his blood freeze, bit by bit. The cold was constant, incurable, yet it was his penance. 

But Tobio can also imagine that it was far worse for Kei. For Shouyou, who had torn him a new one through letters. _That_ reconciliation in and of itself had been hard enough. 

Tobio won’t ask for more — won’t make any more decisions for those around him.

As Kei mounts Tobio’s horse, Tobio swallows around the possessiveness and hunger for control. He bites back scathing words. It’s his horse, his reins to steer — _how dare_ — 

But in the past few years, where Tobio had seen nothing of Kei, so much has evolved. The Kei Tobio knew didn’t carry that graceful broadness of his shoulders, held strong not only by physique, but by self-assuredness and by unapologetic boldness. He’d had the first signs of those, but he isn’t the soldier he is now, filled out and icily fierce. 

The Kei of the past was lanky — they all were; they’d still been growing into their teenage bodies, the food not nearly enough to combat how puberty turned their metabolisms into furnaces. They’d all been beanpoles — wretched and hungry — back then. 

Now, Kei is sturdy. Proficient. Skillful. _Powerful._

There’s no reason Kei shouldn’t be the one guiding their horse, aside from Tobio’s useless pride — and what right does he have to that, anymore? Hasn’t he already debased his pride and worth in the worst way possible, five years ago?

Tobio nods silently — more to himself than Kei — only allowing so small a concession as a quiet sigh and roll of his eyes — remnants of years past when his and Kei’s relationship functioned upon a foundation of one-upmanship. A part of him is amused, exasperatedly, because _of course_. 

But is Tobio entitled to that exasperation, anymore? Who is he, to act as if he has any right to know Kei, to find humor in the other boy’s — no, _man’s_ — character traits? 

_It was your choice, Tobio. Your own decision._

And then, even more resentful, a voice from the back of Tobio’s mind — angry in that cold, chilly way which is entirely Kei: _Don’t you dare regret your choices now. Don’t you dare render the pain you’ve put them through as futile, pointless._

Tobio breathes — _in, out_ — and then looks forward. He focuses on Kei’s words, even as he stalks forward towards the horse, resting his hand against the hind flank in contemplation. At Kei’s harsher words at the end, Tobio’s fingers flex, pressing tightly to the warmth of his horse’s hide, and he unconsciously clenches his jaw before he remembers to relax.

 _J_ _ust take it_ , he thinks, letting it wash down his back, except Kei’s words aren’t water, and Tobio isn’t a rock. The words sear down the skin of his back, and Tobio allows it. Absorbs the words, hopes it’s one small grain of atonement for what he’s subjected his comrades to. This is something he deserves — that he’s damned to. 

Also what Tobio has been damned to: the duties and prioritizations of a soldier. The expectation that he brushes aside the hurts, puts the missions first. As much as he would like to offer Kei more — offer Kei the time and opportunity to truly take what he deserves, to inflict the pain he’s entitled to, there’s no time. 

Not here, not now. 

Not when the right flank lies in shambles, circumstances of their deaths suspicious.

Before, Tobio has torn his brain to shreds, thinking of the strange conditions of Ness’ death, of the idea that a human child could transform into a titan. He’d tried to connect the dots, to no avail — brainpower and logic are not his territory. He couldn’t find that last step — couldn’t arrive at the conclusion right in front of him. 

But logic and analysis is Kei’s strength, and Kei strikes that point head-on, now. In seconds, he voices the exact point Tobio has been trying to make out, and the thought is disturbing. Another one of the shifting Titans? One which is against the Survey Corps — against Jaeger? 

Compartmentalization is an essential skill Tobio has picked up. It had been necessary to wipe out all his reservations, hurts, concerns and be able to delve fully into the job, when called for. It’s what’s allowed him to keep that last shred of sanity the past five years. 

And compartmentalization is what Tobio uses now, focusing entirely on the urgency of Kei’s words, of their knowledge. There’ll be time to repent and self-flagellate later; right now, their primary concern is the threat to humanity. 

They are soldiers, and the next job stands in front of them. Three years of training and five years of service… 

Their choice is obvious. 

Tobio grasps Kei’s arm, feeling the flex of lean muscle underneath his grip, and he hauls himself up smoothly. He settles into the saddle well, chest molding against the understated strength of Kei’s back, arms coming to wrap around a trim waist. 

“Lead the way,” he murmurs, voice quiet because he doesn’t need to be any louder; his lips are inches from Kei’s ear. And before he can hold the words back, quick as a reflex, they slip out. “I’m with you.”

🌛👑🌜

Once upon a time, as a young and fresh-faced cadet, Kei Tsukishima had been a devout worshipper of the Walls. It was all he knew, growing up — it was the faith of his father, that his mother had married into, and he and his brother Akiteru were raised steadfastly within it. They prayed to Maria and Rose for protection and asked the most divine, Sina, for her blessing with important matters. The Tsukishimas were devoted to the goddess trinity, sworn to protect the walls from impurity. 

It wasn’t an easy life, growing up in the Karasuno District on the westernmost tip of Wall Maria. Because the climate was relatively temperate — despite frequent rain — the primary industry was farming. At age twelve, Kei faced the first of many choices that would go on to define him for the rest of his days. 

He could apprentice to his father as a priest within the Church of the Walls — a poor, thankless job that forced them to struggle to survive on their mother’s lowly shopkeep income. 

He could join the majority of the district in their backbreaking labor in the fields, where he’d have plenty of food — but where he’d eventually work himself to death. 

Or he could join the 99th Cadet Corps and pledge his life to the Garrison upon graduation, thereby securing himself a food source _and_ the ability to continue his father’s mission of protecting the Walls. 

It wasn’t an easy life, growing up in the Karasuno District, but it led Kei to making the easiest choice he’d ever make.

The worst choice he’d ever make.

The best choice he’d ever make.

Akiteru had made the same choice, five years prior; he’d pledged to the 94th Cadet Corps, graduated, and began serving the Garrison. The last letters Kei had received as a child placed him somewhere in the south of Wall Rose. _I hope to be moved to Sina one day_ , he had written, _to be trusted to protect the physical manifestation of the holiest of all goddesses_. It was Kei’s dream, too. Tadashi — always at his side — came along for the ride.

So many of the idiots in the 99th Cadet Corps wanted to pledge into the Survey Corps, to spend their lives outside of the walls. It was blasphemy to Kei — leave Maria behind? _What the fuck_ could they even _want_ out in the great wild? He kept them at arm’s length for so long, _for too long_ , refusing to let Hitoka and Shouyou and Tobio break down his _own_ walls. It made no sense to get close to the heathens because they’d likely never see each other ever again after graduation.

Kei never saw Tadashi or Tobio after graduation, either, but that wasn’t by choice.

The shattered remnants of Wall Maria — the shattered remnants of his heart, after losing his closest friend — made Kei rip his own down. If Maria and Rose and Sina couldn’t protect them, then the barricade he’d built around his heart couldn’t protect him, either. 

_What if_ , he remembers thinking, alone in his bunk after another starlit-drenched night with Tobio, shortly before their graduation ceremony, _what if_ —

 _What if_ , he thinks now, as he remembers _swearing_ to Hitoka and Shouyou and _Tobio_ on the day Maria fell, on the day Tadashi died, _I’m with you, now until forever_. What if Tobio had not taken that very moment to lift those indefinable steel blue eyes to meet Kei’s, his gaze haunted and unfocused? What if Tobio had not taken that very moment to inform them that he would be joining the Military Police after all?

Every single fucking day of his life, every single fucking mission and expedition, Kei makes choices — but it felt like the last one he truly made was pledging into the Survey Corp and removing Tobio Kageyama from his heart.

The best choice he’d ever make.

The worst choice he’d ever make.

Kei catches the look on Tobio’s face, the quiet sigh and the eyeroll, and he echoes him unconsciously. Tobio’s hand on his arm is warm and familiar and _painful_ , because it reminds Kei of all the _what ifs_ of his life. And like all the times they’d done this as children, it feels like Tobio positively _melts_ against his back as he settles into the saddle, as he molds around him like he’s back exactly where he belongs. 

There’s no real safety in this world. Once upon a time, Kei had believed unwaveringly in the protection offered by the walls. Once upon a time, he’d been a naive little boy praying to a trio of nonexistent goddesses, knowing they’d watch him while he slept at night. Shiganshina had taught him that death could come for anyone at any time — humanity is subject to its capricious whims. Death is a ravenous monster, always seeking to devour. 

Even _knowing_ this, there’s a brief moment when Tobio wraps his arms around him — slim and deceptively strong with hours and days and years of practice, of flying — where Kei feels it: the same semblance of _safety_ that had defined his childhood. It’s stupid. He _knows_ it’s stupid even as he feels the tension fall from his shoulders, as he feels his body instinctively relax against Tobio’s. 

_It’s the training_ , he tells himself, _it’s like this with Hitoka and Shouyou, too._ Except it’s not; there’s a thrill deep in his gut as his traitor fucking body reacts to Tobio’s presence in a way wholly unlike how it reacts to his other fellow cadets. Even Hitoka—

—even Hitoka, who’d let herself into his tent the night of that first mission. 

Hitoka, who’d climbed on top of his thighs, who’d bent as close to his ear as Tobio is now to whisper, _I just want to feel — we’re going to die tomorrow, Kei, but I want to feel tonight—_

Hitoka, who’d loved Tadashi, but who’d sunk onto _Kei_ instead with a soft sound, because Tadashi was no more.

Hitoka, who’d said, _You’re not who I want. I’m not who you want. But they’re both gone now, aren’t they? I want to feel, Kei—_

Even Hitoka, after years of what should amount to the _same_ sort of conditioning on a much more intimate level, doesn’t cause his body to _melt_ like this.

What if the murmured _I’m with you_ had come five years earlier, when Kei had confessed his intention to join the Survey Corps so he could stay with Tobio? And Hitoka and Shouyou? _What if—_

Once again, their lines and their lives blur together.

Kei allows it, because it’s already been such a goddamn long day. He’d avoided backbreaking labor in the fields only to commit to a lifetime of soul crushing terror instead. He allows himself this one indulgence, this one moment of freedom that feels like _flying_ , and then he packs it away again.

His abdominals tense underneath Tobio’s arms and his back stiffens as he sits upright in the saddle. Kei tightens his knees and the horse obeys his signal, starting off in a walk that turns into an easy, slow lope toward the tree line. There’s nothing to say in response to Tobio’s too-late commitment, so Kei doesn’t. His jaw clenches as he stops himself from spewing more anger, because that’s _not_ fucking useful right now, and he tries to think.

“Gas,” he says, abruptly. They’re within the tree line now, and his eyes never stop roving around, looking for danger. “I’m practically running on fumes.” 

He means his ODM gear, but it’s a true statement for his physical condition, as well — the adrenaline has worn off and he’s chilled and oh-so-slightly trembling; the only part of him that’s warm here within the shaded canopy is the blazing heat of Tobio against his back. 

“We’re too vulnerable in here like this,” Kei says. “We should stop for now. Get up in the branches where it’s safer.” _Nothing is safe._ “Sleep, maybe, til a few hours after dark. And then we can go look for the others.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic was inspired by a Zedd song. [Click here to listen to the entire Tsukikage SNK playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/25UgyjZS3e0jNispi6XwAA?si=iO0iiGfgQga6X44Gjg78xg) We have blasted it on repeat for days now and haven't gotten sick of it yet.
> 
> Follow Kel [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/kelidahauk) if you're 18+. You're also welcome to [come join the TKKG Thirst Discord server](https://discord.gg/7wGBcyH) if you are an adult.


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